


Boy Meets Boy Meets Other Boy

by Ange_de_la_Mort



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (18 / 19 / 20), Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Established Shiro/Keith, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Strangers to Lovers, Threesome - M/M/M, food truck au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-01-21 08:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12453900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ange_de_la_Mort/pseuds/Ange_de_la_Mort
Summary: A simple summer job lets Lance meet the boy of his dreams. And his boyfriend.





	1. Chapter 1

With a quiet sigh, Lance wipes the sweat off his brow and glances at the sausages on the small grill. They’re already done, have been done for a long time, but he has to keep them warm until somebody comes over and buys something. Because … well, who’d want to bite into a hot dog only to find out the only hot thing about it is the pretty seller? Right! No one! 

Lance wouldn’t want that, either. At least he wouldn’t want that if he’d eat still hot dogs at all anymore. … which he doesn’t. Mostly because he doesn’t want to have anything to do with all this stuff, because he just can’t take the smell of meat anymore, not to mention the taste.

… is everything you do for a living like this? Do you start hating everything you do when you have to do it all day? … hmm. That’s a thing he needs to think about a little longer sometime soon. Maybe he should ask Hunk what he thinks about it. Hunk is smart and likes to play along with Lance’s dumb little mind games, however weird they might be.

That is probably the reason why Hunk is his best friend (even though he feels a bit lonely in here, on days like this one, when it’s hot outside and even hotter inside this stupid truck, when he feels trapped and cramped between all the sizzling meat, when he’s tired and exhausted and thinking of just smashing his head onto the nearest surface. Which would be the griddle. Just to see what’s gonna happen … though, well, no. Better not. He knows what’s going to happen, has watched countless times how the thin skin around the sausages just _bursts_ , how the meat is being grilled from the inside, very nicely smelling, very tasty, very much not what he wants for himself. He’s extremely sure he doesn’t want to become the filling of a Lance sandwich, no thanks, nope, never ever); maybe that’s one of those reasons. That and because they’ve grown up together, the two of them against the rest of the world, two friend that would never let each other high and dry.

… except for now.

Because summer vacation just started. And Hunk went to Egypt with his parents, like he does every year, travelling along the Nile on a boat, examining the pyramids, clinging to the slim hope to find something no one has ever found before him. Like he does … every year. Because Hunk wants to become an archaeologist, or maybe a ship mechanic, he’s never quite sure about it.

Just like Lance. Well, that thing with the archaeology. Not the one with the mechanics. That’s definitely not his thing, he gets seasick very easily – which is why he dropped his dream of becoming an astronaut. An astronaut who gets nauseous just from being shaken, not stirred … no, not happening. Too bad.

But archaeology is cool. As long as it’s something that makes his name appear in history books and his face in newspapers.

The same face that’s not shining with sweat (which would be alright, usually, because usually he’d be in Egypt with Hunk and turn around every single god-damn pebble in the whole desert. Like every year. But no, this year, finals got in the way and his grades didn’t look as good as usual. And his parents were not amused.), as he’s picking up a pair of tongs to flip the meat from one side to the other, to watch it sizzle, turning a crispy brown from the other side as well. He pouts. And sighs.

Actually, it’s all his dad’s fault. After he came home with his not-too-pretty school report, his dad had thrown his hands up in despair and taken a very, very deep breath. The kind of breath you take when you actually want to scream. Lance could understand him, he felt the same when he received his grades. He hadn’t expected them to look _this_ bad and _maybe_ he wanted to mentally kick his own ass, because he’d spend more time calculating what grades he’d need so he wouldn’t have to repeat the whole year, than actually studying. And when he’d taken his final exams … he’d fucked up his grades and his holiday in Egypt.

Well. Anyway. His dad had very nicely and sternly told him to think about what he was doing, what he was hoping to get out of life and why he wasn’t „getting his ass up“ to actually reach the goals he’d set for himself and get his young, young life together. And then his dad had condemned him to a summer job so Lance could realize what he _wouldn’t_ want to do for the rest of his life.

And that’s how he’d ended up here. And after the third day, he’d found out you could make a shit ton of money in a food truck that was around the corner of the biggest mall in the city – and also that it was a shit ton of work. Now that he knows a bit more about it, he feels kinda sorry for all those people who have to do this job all year long (but only kinda, for it _is_ absolute grind work, it’s tough and tiring, but if it’s done right, it’s enough to make a living).

And that’s why he’s here, every day, for eight hours, in this tiny, cramped space and serving people, heaving boxes with lemonade and soft drinks from here to there and suffering through the smell of burnt meat and grease (nope, until summer vacation is over, Lance has _definitely_ become a vegetarian). But not everything is bad. The customers are mostly nice. Sure, a few of them are always in a shitty mood or in a hurry, coming home from work or just wanting to grab something to eat before work, but most of them are nice to chat with. So he does that. A lot. Mostly with the guys and gals who work at the mall, when they come over to his place to keep him some company during their lunch or cigarette breaks. They often buy something. And those who don’t talk to him about everything and nothing (it’s one of the things he has found out while working here: People like to hear themselves talk or like to have someone to tell their worries to. And when the appointment with the doctor or the hairdresser is still too far away, the pretty food truck boy has to have an open ear for them).

However, that is not the only reason why the job is pissing him off less than he initially thought it would, why he’s coming to work day after day with a smile on his lips.

Because there’s also him.  

The young man with the red leather jacket and the black hair. Who comes over every second day, a leather bag slung over his shoulder (one that Lance assumes is a school bag, some sort of fancy designer brand, stuff Lance knows nothing about. It would be to stressful for him to spend time and money on something that doesn’t need to look pretty, that only needs to be practical, to do its job and carry his books)  and a smartphone in his hand that he types onto, his head a little lowered so that his hair falls into his face, hiding his eyes. Truth to be told, for a long time Lance believed him to be an arrogant dick, just some rich child going to a private school.

But then, one time, the guy didn’t just rush past him, past the mall and into the general direction of the train station, but instead paused and raised his head to look at him. To look him in the eye. … yeah, sure, most likely he only looked at the menu, but a boy can dream, right?

Anyways, the guy had looked at him. At smiled. And waved a bit at him when he noticed that Lance was looking at him as well (just looking, not staring. Definitely not staring, all right?).

… and this job hasn’t been _that_ bad ever since.

__

Mental correction: The job has been incredibly shitty ever since. Just because every day, Lance goes to work with a hopeful smile on his face and comes back home with the facial expression of someone who has a lemon stuck in his throat. Which, in turn, is _just because_ he is hoping to see his crush with the pretty hair and jacket again. And he is waiting. Again and again. Without him coming over. Although he really only wants to chat a bit him with, exchange a few words in order to find out whether he’s a giant dick or not, and then to … well …

But if he doesn’t shop up at all, Lance can’t flirt, and if Lance can’t flirt with him, he’ll never find out if he’s found the love of his life or not. It’s a catch-22 situation. He hates it.

But what if the guys always comes over when Lance isn’t there for a few minutes? What if he stared into the truck longingly, waiting for Lance to show up, only to grow as annoyed and frustrated as Lance is himself?

Oh god, what if he coincidentally always comes over just when Lance is in the mall to visit the restroom? … fine, that just means there are no more toilet breaks for him! He’s gotta endure that – or just sweat it out, after all, it’s so hot in here, it shouldn’t be a problem!

… yeah, well, no, that would be ridiculous.

… but maybe it’d be worth a try.

“Think, Lance, think,” he grumbles to himself a few days later and rubs his eyes with an exhausted sigh. And then he just stays like that for a bit, resting his elbows on the counter, hiding his face in his hands. Maybe he should go home. Summer vacation is almost over, just two more weeks, and then he’s back at school, trapped in there for months until his graduation. Then, there’s college. He’s gonna move far, far away. He’s never gonna see the pretty guy with the red jacket again.

And maybe that’s okay, in a way. There are plenty of other fish in the sea, and so on. To bad he is, like, an anti-pescetarian and doesn’t even care about fish and only about that one pretty idiot who just fails to drag his butt over here. Maybe he noticed Lance staring at him? Because, well, Lance _did_ stare. A long time sometimes. Maybe he only smiled at Lance that one time because he hoped that would be enough, that would make Lance stop behaving like a giant idiot with a giant crush. Maybe. Yeah, maybe he did hope that – without knowing that just made his stupid crush a lot worse.

He just sighs one more time. “Congrats, man,” he murmurs to himself, “you’re totally fucked.”

Someone clears his throat.

Lance flinches. Drags his hands downwards a little, just enough to uncover his eyes … and wishes he hadn’t, for – well, who is standing there, looking at him puzzledly, head titled a little to the side and his eyes – purple; purple eyes, what the fuck, do those even exist, are those contacts? – widened in confusion? Who’s wearing a tight black shirt and his god-damn trademark jacket? Yeah? Guess? Guess who?

Someone up there really seems to hate Lance’s guts, because while Lance winces and runs a hair through his head, while he tries to gloss over having talked about being fucked – right in front of the guy he wants to get fucked by – with forced laughter and a wave of his free hand, he can feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat and his face grow a most likely not-so-pretty shade of red.

“Are you all right?” the other boy asks, looking at him a little worriedly.

“What? Me? I- sure! Sorry, sorry, I was just lost in thoughts.” Breathe, man. In. Out. In. Again. Just like that. Don’t get a heart attack, don’t fall face-first into the frying grease, that’s not hot – in the sexy kind of way, of course it it in the _other_ kind of way, uh, duh – and won’t make him like you, that will ruin your chances of getting another one of his smiles … although Lance might be able to ask the paramedics if the guy can tag along and stay with him on the way the hospital and hold Lance’s hand the whole time. … okay, that’s enough. Stop it, man! You’re not a child anymore, don’t behave like one! Cool? Cool! “I … sorry. What can I do for you?”

He actually has hoped for “Kiss me right here and now”, but more or less expected that he wouldn’t get to hear it. Instead, the guy places his order and Lance starts to cut meat, grill it and pack it in two bags. As he reaches over the counter, he quirks a brow. “You’re gonna feed some lions with all that stuff?”

The other boy laughs a little. It’s a warm, rich sound that goes right through him and makes him shiver in delight. Then he shakes his head, black hair falling in his face. “Kinda. I’m still fighting a flu, I’m not thrilled to cook today. At all.”

Ah! The flu! That’s great! Well, actually, y'know, it isn’t, but it explains a lot. Like, why he hasn’t been here for a while, and _that_ is good because it hasn’t been Lance’s fault and all possibilities for their blooming romance are still wide open. And _THAT_ is great.

Lance smiles at him. “Sounds awful, man. Hope you’re doing better soon, and … hey,” he adds as if the thought just came to him, as if he hasn’t been rehearsing the next few words for weeks, “how about we go out and grab some coffee? I’m gonna pay, of course. We could celebrate you feeling better.”

“Oh … ”

Oh? OH?! Oh is not good. Unless “Oh” ends with “Oh, I’d love to, you charming, handsome fella”, but somehow he doubts it will end like that, because _then_ the guy wouldn’t look at him like _this_ , all sad and frowning. Right? Right?!

“… I already have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” is all Lance can say, and it’s a cross between “Oh, that destroys every little bit of hope and happiness in my life” and “Oh, I should have known better, because you’re so pretty, of course every boy in the city would queue up to get the chance of going out with you (and maybe all the girls, too, but at least _this_ pretty bastard is boys only. The situation would have been even more awkward otherwise … if that’s even possible). Including myself. But I’m so far behind in the queue that it’s never gonna be my turn and the blinds will be let down and then there I am, unable to get in at all and it’s gonna start raining and I’ll be standing there, wet and lonely and-”

“Please don’t look at me like I’ve kicked your dog.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“That was a metaphor. I just … I wanted you to know.”

“Yeah. Sure. It’s cool.” Lance wipes his sweaty palms off on his pants and turns his head aside. “I didn’t want to … ”

“You didn’t.”

“You don’t even know what I wanted to say.”

He shrugs it off. “You’re not butting into anything, you didn’t cross any lines, you weren’t obnoxious. Did I forget anything else?”

Lance sulks a little and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I didn’t want to say any of that,” he claims, suddenly very happy that he _didn’t_ say any of that.

“I’m just saying. I … ” He sighs and shakes his head a little, looks up at Lance to show him a gentle smile. “We’re kinda running in circles here. Sorry. I’d love to grab some coffee with you.”

Wait, what? “… but you have a boyfriend?”

“So?”

“I don’t want to-”

“-butt into anything. You don’t. It’s okay. Really.”

Lance tenses a little. Sure, a part of him is jumping up and down with joy at the thought of spending some time outside these cramped, smelly walls with Mr. Red Jacket – time they can spend talking, time Lance can spend showing him that he’s not just handsome and charming, but also incredibly smart and generally irresistible; in which he doesn’t sweat his ass off, doesn’t have to make sure he manages to not hurt himself or burn everything down –, but he’s not a … he’s not someone to destroy an existing relationship.

The other boy is still smiling, but suddenly startles as if he just thought of something important. Then, he rummages through the leather bag and takes out a pen and a small, red notebook (yeah, wow, _someone_ knows how to combine accessories with clothes) to scribble something down before tearing out the page and handing it over to Lance. “Here. My phone number and address. Just come over if you want to, coffee’s on me and home made.”

“I … ” He shouldn’t do it, but he still lets the other boy hand him the slip of paper and proceeds to look at helplessly. “… maybe.”

“I’d be looking forward to it. Oh. I haven’t even introduced myself. Sorry, must be the flu, my brain’s still not completely powered up again. I’m Keith,” he says with a grin that shows his white and even teeth.  

“Lance,” he mumbles, looking from Keith’s face to the note in his hand and back to his face.

“Lance. Cool. Nice to meet you, Lance.”

“Yeah, same,” he says, and even though his whole situation is almost embarrassingly weird, he has to admit to himself that it actually _is_ nice to meet him like this. At least a bit. Kinda. Somehow.

__


	2. Chapter 2

Almost a week passes until Lance dares to send Keith a text. He doesn't write much, just two, maybe three lines, just to ask if he's doing okay and if the offer to come over for coffee is still in the air. He doesn't have to work that weekend, and he has nothing better to do – because Hunk is still not back from Egypt, but he doesn't tell him _that_. There's no need for it, Keith doesn't know Hunk yet, anyway.

Even though he has imagined them to meet already. In his little daydreams – back then, before the thing with the boyfriend happened – he's imagined all three of them to be out to party, has imagined formally introducing Keith to Hunk, has imagined them just hanging around … just three boys with two of them in a relationship and … oh. Wait. That would be just the same situation Lance is in right now, wouldn't it? A boy meeting up with a boy – and his boyfriend. Only Hunk wouldn't be the third wheel … or would he? Maybe he wouldn't feel that way. But maybe _Lance_ wouldn't have to feel that way, either, with Keith and this other guy. Like, who gets to say he's the third wheel?

Well, Lance gets to say that. Lance gets to feel like that. Right now. Right here.

… well, fuck.

Maybe everything would turn out completely differently. Maybe Keith only said the boyfriend thing to test Lance, to see what kind of person he is (one who fights for love and justice in the name of the moon and so on). Maybe Keith is five steps ahead of Lance and seeing _him_ as his future boyfriend already. That'd be great. Amazing. Totally rad!

… but somehow he doesn't think that's the case at all.

With a tired sigh he puts the phone aside without looking at the screen at all. Only to reach out for it approximately two seconds later to check if it's beeped or vibrated without him noticing.

It hasn't.

Of course not.

So he puts the phone aside again.

Only to reach out-

God, he's pathetic.

__

Keith texted him back. He sounded happy, as happy as one can sound via written messages, and invited Lance to come over, asking if Lance still had his address.

Of course he still has it. Has memorized it with every fiber of his being. Because he is a stupid idiot with a stupid crush.

Anyway. He sends him another text, telling him he's gonna be there in about half an hour. Then he jumps off his bed, into his clothes, and down the stairs, past his parents. „I'm out with some friends!“ he shouts while grabbing his coat and rushing out out of the house before they can say or do anything to hold him back.  
__

The address Keith has given him leads him right to the local university campus. Lance has never been here before, but he has thought a lot about going to one of them. Of course he has. He'd have to matriculate somewhere, together with Hunk. Archaeology doesn't just come your way, you have to chase it and grab it by the buried tail, right? Right! This is why he looks around a bit with curiosity in his eyes and his smile and every single one of his steps, even takes a peak inside the crowded café close to the canteen.

The students inside are mostly either chatting with each other while having lunch or sitting over homework, typing away on their laptops and tablets. They don't look that much older than him, some of them even seem to be a little younger.

He can imagine belonging here for real sometime soon.

Slowly, he passes the big buildings, asks for directions once or twice. And finally, he finds himself standing in front of the dormitory complex. Lance leans his head back to look up the front facade, to count the floors and balconies, compares the number to the one on the slip of paper he has clutched in his hands as if his life depends on it.

Lance takes a deep breath and nods to himself. Then he enters the building through the front doors and slams his hand onto the elevator button.  
__

Should he have rang the doorbell first? Downstairs? Should he have waited for the intercom system to come to life, for Keith to know that he's here and coming over? What if Keith is currently busy with his boyfriend, what if Lance is interrupting things? What if Keith isn't even there – has left the building to go and grab some groceries, some coffee – and Lance will be standing in front of a locked door like a complete idiot? What if …

Well, too late for any of those thoughts now, right? Now he's already here, right in front of the door that should be Keith's. Lance gathers all of his courage … and keeps staring at the door. Then looks at the slip of paper in his hand. Then back at the door. Should he just knock? What if Keith really isn't home? But then … it's his dorm. And he has invited Lance. That mean he can't just be somewhere far, far away.

Okay, he says to himself, stop hesitating. Go get him, tiger! Be a real man!

So he knocks at the dorm door.

And flinches as the door opens and someone sticks his head out to look at him. Someone who's not Keith. Someone who's a head taller than Lance, broader in build. Broad shoulders. Big muscles.

Oh.

That must be the boyfriend.

Lance raises his shoulders a little and ducks his head, kind of like a turtle that fears being attacked. Is the boyfriend here to punch him in the face? To show Lance he isn't wanted, that Keith is already taken. To tell him with his fists that he should keep his nose out of other people's business? … how many floors are there until he hits the ground? Are the windows open? Can they be opened? What if he's being thrown out, waving his arms in vain because he can't fly? What if he should just run away because the boyfriend is looking at him with bright eyes, knowingly, self-assuredly. What if …

"Hey." The boyfriend greets him and shoots him a grin, a lopsided and almost sheepish one. "You must be Lance. Keith told me a lot about you."

"He did?" He almost can't imagine that. "I mean ..." Lance clears his throat. "Cool. Cool that he did. I'm … yeah, I'm Lance. Nice to meet you. " He reaches out to shake the boyfriend's hand. After all, he is a polite guy, even though that might be a bad idea. It's the right hand he extends, his dominant one. The one he could defend himself with. The one that could be grabbed so that the boyfriend can forcefully pull him inside and throw him out of the window with his head first.

The smile freezes on the other guy's lips, and a giant red warning flares up in Lance's mind. "How about you just come in? Keith should be back in a few. He's gone out to grab something to eat, you know?"

So the boyfriend steps aside. And Lance catches his legs not listening to reason and the rest of his body. They carry him inside on their own.

The door closes with a quiet sound that feels like a death sentence.

"So," the boyfriend begins once more. "Lance. The kid with the big, fat crush on Keith."

Lance turns on his heels, his hands raised in protest. "That's not it! I-"

He quickly shuts up as soon as he notices two very important things: Firstly, the boyfriend is smiling. And it's not a cruel smile, not the smile of a guy who is out for blood. Just a … nice one. As if he has already accepted Lance as a part of their little family. And secondly, even if he wanted, the boyfriend couldn't throw Lance out of the window at all – for he is missing a lot of his right arm. His right sleeve is rolled up to the elbow, and there is a distinct lack of _everything_ below that. Lance resumes staring at it for another second – or two, or five – before remembering his good upbringing and tearing his eyes away. He looks the back the boyfriend's smiling face.

"I'm Shiro. Sorry, I'd give you a hand now, but I seem to have misplaced it." He laughs at his own joke, and Lance forces himself to let out a few sounds that might be interpreted as laughter – if one is either very generous or very deaf. "Sit down," Shiro says, pointing at one of the two chairs in the small room. Otherwise, it is mostly empty. Except for a bed, a wardrobe, and a desk with those two chairs. However, there are two more doors, which Lance assumes lead to the bathroom and the kitchen.

He does as he's being told and looks up to Shiro, who keeps glancing at him for another long moment, brows raised and eyes bright, a smile on his lips that kind of resembles Keith's. "You need a drink? To get over the shock?" He grins again, and this time it's impossible to not smile back.

When Lance nods, he disappears in one of the other rooms – the kitchen – and returns with two glasses that he keeps clenched between his fingers and a bottle that he carries under his arm (Lance asks if he needs help, but Shiro shakes his head), places all three items on the table. Then he sits down across Lance to look him up and down. "You know, I get why Keith thinks you're cute,“ he says just when Lance manages to open the bottle. It slips from his fingers at Shiro's words and almost falls onto the floor, but he reacts quickly enough to save himself from a lot of embarrassment and cleaning duty.

"Wait, what?" he asks, voice about an octave higher than usual. And then, he keeps on asking: "What are you talking about?" His voice cracks a little when Shiro begins to laugh quietly.

"Just what I said. He thinks you're okay. And I think he's right." While Lance keeps looking at him as if he's grown a second head, Shiro reaches out for the bottle, holding it trapped between the heel of his hand and three fingers while opening it with his thumb and index finger. Carefully, he places the cap aside and pours two glasses of lemonade, one for Lance and one for himself. "So … you wanna talk a little about yourself or wait until Keith comes back?"

"I ... "

"Or should I go first? Would that make it easier for you?" And there's that lopsided smile again, the one Lance just cannot help but reciprocate.

"You do know that I like Keith _that_ way?" comes the question before Lance can hold it back and clasp a hand over its mouth, or maybe break its neck because there are some things one just _doesn't_ ask. Shiro nods, and Lance proceeds to ask: "And you don't mind?"

"Why should I?"

"Well, 'cause you're … you know … together."

"So what?"

Wait. What? That makes no sense. When two people are in a relationship, they have some kind of absolute monopoly on each other. Right? At least that's the way with Hunk. With Hunk and his girlfriend from Egypt, Shay. And that's the way it should be … right? The way that's normal.

Shiro takes pity at his confusion and shrugs his shoulders. "There's no maximum number of people you might think attractive in life. At all. And there won't magically be one once you're in a relationship. Keith thinks you're cute and I think you're a polite young man."

"That's … something an aunt says about her nephew. Or a granny."

"I think I knew if I was your gran."

"I'm just saying! I'm just … I … " Lance lets out a small sigh and rubs a spot at the back of his neck."Look, I just don't get it at all. First Keith tells me he has a boyfriend, then he invites me over anyway. Now you're here telling me Keith likes me back and you think that's amazing."

"I actually said you're okay."

"That doesn't answer my question!"

"What is your question anyway?"

Yes, what is his question anyway? … well. "Why did Keith invite me?"

"Because he wants to get to know you. And I do, too."

"Why?"

"Because I prefer to know who my boyfriend spends his time with so that he won't get stuck with a complete asshole."

"No, I mean … why is that okay with you? Keith getting to know me better? Us hanging around sometimes? You know I like him and you say he likes me, too. Why doesn't that bother you?"

Shiro lets out a deep sigh and takes a sip of his lemonade, most likely to buy some time before answering. "I've known Keith ever since we were kids. Our parents were friends and so it was kinda a given that we became friends as well. We always spent a lot of time with each other." That is not actually a response to Lance's question, but he keeps his mouth shut and listens, because he understands the beginning of a story when he hears one. And this one might be a long one. "We've always been with each other, first as friends, later as a couple. You know, we were teens. Young and stupid and telling each other we'd be together forever. We were … the perfect example of a cheesy romance. Childhood friends, teenage love, and so on." Shiro pauses here, his eyes dark and clouded, as if he's catching up with a whole bunch of distant memory.

"What happened?" Lance asks quietly.

"I went to the army as soon as I turned eighteen. I was … I was a child, back then, in a way, wanting to learn about the world and my place in it, wanting to succeed in making it a better world for everyone."

"You failed, didn't you?" It's not really a question, it's a fact. A statement that isn't meant to hurt, but with just a simple glance at Shiro's arm it's obvious that some very bad things and people crossed his way.

Shiro only nods. "I'd been gone for about two years and the only thing I've managed to understand is that life is too short to limit yourself in your options. That you have to try everything, enjoy what you can. Just … just have fun and be happy, you know?"

"So that's why you don't mind Keith sleeping with other people?"

"That's why I don't mind to do so as well."

"... ah."

Shiro regards him for a few long seconds, his eyes half-closed, his head titled to the side. Then he chuckles quietly, maybe a little embarrassed, and rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry. I know this is all a bit much for now. And I'm sorry if it sounds like we've only invited you for a threesome."

"What? No! Don't worry!" Lance waves his hands around and hates himself for blushing. "It doesn't sound that way at all! I mean .. maybe … uhm." Okay, okay, it does sound that way. But let's be real, what else is he supposed to think? Or rather: What else has he been supposed to think at all? A cute guy telling him he's in a relationship, telling him he wants to meet up with him regardless of said relationship – that smells like someone who wants to cheat. Or someone looking for a threesome. And even though he thinks Keith is amazingly pretty, he really isn't sure if either of this options sound all right with him.

"It does sound like it." Shiro shows his brilliant smile again and shrugs. "But that's not what it is, don't worry. All that Keith wants is getting to know you better, maybe even becoming friends with you, hanging out from time to time, stuff like that."

"And what do you want?"

Another shrug. "I just roll with it."

"But what if it happens? The sex, I mean. What then?"

"Then he's still gonna roll with it," someone says behind them, and Lance whips his head around, just in time to watch Keith shut the door behind him with his foot. In his hands he holds two big bags that smell incredibly tasty. "So," he begins after having brought the bags to the small kitchen, after having come back to the main dorm room, "what kinds of horror stories have you told our guest?“ He grins at Shiro and gives him a quick peck on the temple.

"Nothing but the truth. About you fucking small kids and about me eating them for dinner."

"Ah, good, so we don't have to waste any more time with playing nice before shoving him into the oven." He chuckles at Lance's confused face and shakes his hand slightly. "Hi, man. Thanks for coming over."

"Thanks for inviting me. I guess,"Lance responds and watches Keith kick off his shoes. He then proceeds to throw himself onto the bed, mostly because there's no other place to sit (unless he wants to sit on Shiro's lap, which is a possibility Lance doesn't really want to think of because he knows his face would grow red in a split-second , ans that _has_ to be unhealthy eventually, like, what if he gets an aneurysm?). "Though I'm still not completely sure why you did that. At all."

Keith stretches his legs and sits up to sit cross-legged on his bed, arms resting on his upper thighs. "Well," he says with a grin, "I just wanted to know why the cute, tiny vendor looked this pissed off all the time."

"I'm not tiny!"

"But you're pissed off?"

"Hey, how would you feel if you were forced to spend the whole day stuck in a cramped six-by-ten feet van while smelling of chicken and grease all day?"

Keith clucks his tongue, most likely agreeing with him there. "But you had to know what you were doing. You wouldn't _be_ working there if you hadn't chosen to."

"Yeah, sure!" And this is the part where Lance tells them the whole story; the one of his last report card and his finals, of the impeding fear of failing to graduate; the story of his dad deciding how to make him realize that he has to sit his ass down and be thankful for school and the possibility of learning and all that jazz. And the story of Hunk, who is surely sweaty and greasy all the time right now, too, but not because he has to spend like a third of his daily life next to a hot deep fryer, and instead only because the sun in Egypt is always shining and/or his girlfriend is doing all kinds of lewd things with him. But it's not like he's jealous because he isn't. Maybe just a little. Or a little more.

Then he is done with his tale, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and sticks out his lower lip in a pout.

They are all quiet for a few seconds, and then Keith nods slowly. "Well, it's not all bad? You're earning some money all by yourself and you're getting some … you know … valuable lessons for life?"

"Mhh."

"Although you have to spend more time with your school work and less with whining about your holiday job," Shiro says while pouring another glass of lemonade.. "Otherwise you'll have to spend your next holidays in the food truck, too."

"Mhh."

"What do you want to do with your life, anyway? When you've grown up, I mean,“ Keith asks without warning.

"You _do_ know I'm taller than you?" By an inch, sure, but an inch can be very important depending on the situation.

"Yeah, but I've got my own dorm and can do whatever I want to, while the only thing waiting for you is a lifetime of being grounded if your grades stay as shitty as they are right now."

Lance grimaces and crosses his arms defiantly in front of his chest, muttering: "I imagined you nicer."

"You're evading my question."

No shit, Sherlock. Lance plans to evade it until the end of time or until Keith has found something new and shiny to play with – or until his mother calls to ask where the fuck he is and why he isn't at home for dinner. He makes a face at that thought, and makes another face at having to actually think about the question at hand. Because every moment he spends _thinking_ is a moment where he realizes he has no idea. Sure, he has a goal, a lifelong dream, but becoming an astronaut doesn't seem possible in the next twenty years, and _that_ dream will only come a little further into reach if he manages to stop vomiting at the slightest rocking of any surface he stands on.

Then there's the thing with archaeology. But he has to admit that he is not too sure if that's actually _his_ dream or Hunk's. … no, wait, he is kinda sure that it's Hunk's dream. It's just that he doesn't want to lose Hunk as a friend and that he is worried they will stop hanging out when they've graduated. Hunk is his best friend, his one and only mate, and he knows he'd do a lot of stupid things to stay close to him. But … it's not what he wants to do for a living, what he wants to be.

It would be easier if Lance actually _knew_ what he wanted to be, but he doesn't. He only knows that is must be something special. Something cool. Like he is. It has to be something that he chooses all by himself and all for himself, if someone else makes this choice for him, it will only resume in him being unhappy and sulky with his life.

But he has no clue what to choose. And so he … simply keeps silent and lowers his gaze a little.

"Well, that explains your grades." Lance blinks and raises his eyes again to look at Shiro, who gifts him with a smile. "If you only study because you have to, not because you want to, then it won't be of any use in the long way. It just won't work. That's no use."

Keith shrugs his shoulders. "That's probably it. You can believe him when he says stuff like that. He's gonna be an amazing teacher, after all." (Shiro makes a throwaway gesture, and Lance tilts his head a bit to the side.) "He's studying that," Keith explains. "And I'm gonna be an arts major."

"Ah. You draw stuff."

"Actually, I take photos of stuff."

"Ah," Lance says once more because he can't really imagine what pictures have to do with art. He knows art, and he knows art classes: those are the times when he stares a whole bunch of old paintings trying to over analyze them, the times when he throws watercolours on paper in the hopes the result will look halfway presentable. His hopes are often in vain, but he is always doing his best. … even though 'doing your best' is ninety-nine percent of the time nothing more than the prefix for 'and still failing'.

His confusion seems to be written onto his face, for Keith just smiles at him. "If you want to, I'll take you with me on a few trips. But for today, let's just enjoy each other's company. Eat something and chat a bit." He gets gets up to walk over to the small kitchen, stretches his arms while walking (meanwhile, Lance desperately tries to ignore his shirt riding up an inch or two, showing the promise of naked skin, teasing his stupid, stupid imagination … he should maybe just over analyze Keith, he'd be amazing at that, 10/10 best grades ever). "I didn't know what to get you, so I brought pizza and pasta. 's that fine with you?"

Oh, it is. Very fine, indeed.

Lance finds out that Keith is just one year older than him, and Shiro is only two years his senior, even though he appears to be so much older, so much more mature and adult. But that, Lance guesses, is because of him having been in the army, because of the thing with his arm, the thing that Lance still does his best not to talk or even think about (though he sometimes looks at Shiro out of the corners of his eyes and wiggles his fingers just a bit, just to feel them be _there_. He doesn't know what he'd do if he ever lost a hand. He only knows the thought frightens him). Shiro goes to a different uni, in a different city, which is why this dorm is Keith's and Shiro spends most of his weekends here. The rest of the time, Keith uses his dorm only to sleep or use his laptop,he  is always either at class or out and about to meet up with new people and take new pictures.   
Keith's parents died a long time ago – Lance swallows hard in sympathy –, but they've left him with enough money for him to be able to go to uni and for some short trips whenever he's searching for new places and situations to take pictures of. Shiro lives off wartime pension and what he makes as a private tutor.

The longer Lance stays with them this very evening, the more they chat with each other, the more Lance starts to think just how different they both are. Different from Lance, different from each other. However, that is exactly what he thinks makes them seem so sympathetic, so fascinating.

Yeah, he thinks, he really does want to spend more time with them both.

And for some strange, unfathomable reason _they_ want to spend time with _him_.

__

Sometimes he feels like he's Keith's pack mule. He's carrying the tripod and the heavy backpack with the sandwiches and bottles of coke, while Keith is just strutting through life and through the city, going "Oooh" and "Aaah" at the sight of every single blade of grass. … yeah, fine, he's exaggerating things. A little. Keith is carrying just as much as he is, a backpack, a bag slung over his shoulder as well the camera bag around his neck. And he isn‘t saying hello to every single flower, doesn't think he's found the eight wonder of world whenever a funny-looking shadow or a colourful insect crosses his path. But still. A lot of things are unnecessary in Lance's opinion, at least during the first few weeks, where he has no clue at all about anything Keith does and wants and sees in the world, where he has no idea why they have to get out of bed far too early or run around in the middle of the night.

It's only some time later, after Lance has complained once or twice or twenty times that Keith makes an effort to explain everything to him. He shoots Lance a confused look and slaps his hand against his forehead. "Shit! Sorry, I completely forgot you're not … an expert at this."

"Is that a nice way of calling me an idiot?“

"What? No, of course not! I'm just used to having someone with me on my trips who's into art as well, or someone I've told all of that stuff already."

"... someone like Shiro?" He sounds way too defensive as he says that, even though is isn't sure why. He likes Shiro. And Keith. He likes them both. But Keith a little more. Just a little. And that's why it sometimes feels like being stabbed in the heart when he thinks about the fact that Keith is in relationship with Shiro and not with him.

"Yeah," Keith says and smiles at him. "Yeah, someone like Shiro. But also someone like you. I like spending time with you, Lance, don't forget that."

For a while there is nothing but silence between them as Keith leads the way to the closest tram station. He buys a ticket for both of them – Lance protests because, hey, he's old enough to buy his own tram tickets, okay? – and Lance carefully sets the heavy bag down to the seat next to him, while Keith slumps onto the seat across him.

Lance crosses his legs and looks out of the window without actually looking outside. To be honest, he is simply watching Keith's reflection in the glass as he says: "... I like being with you." With him. Not spending time. Just being with him.

Keith doesn't say anything in response, but Lance can see his lips curl up in a smile.

"So, where are we going anyway?"

"I want to get some good shots on a bunch of fish."

Lance frowns and turns his head to fully look at Keith again. "We're going to the Aquarium? Why didn't you tell me, I just have like five bucks with me!"

"You're invited."

"What? No!"

"Why not?"

He flails his arms around a bit. Because … because … well, actually, why not? They're friends, after all. It's nothing unusual for friends to lend each other some money or to invite each other from time to time. It's normal to do that – with Hunk. With Keith, however, it's … "Because it's strange. With you. It's almost like a date!"

Keith is quiet for some moments, only looking up again when their stop is announced. He raises from his seat and shoulders his bags, then holds his hand out to Lance to help him up. "Maybe it's one," he says with a smile on his lips.

"Maybe it's what?"

"A date."

"Oh," is all that Lance says. And because this 'oh' is a surprised and positive 'oh', he doesn't hesitate for much longer, and instead simply reaches out to hold Keith's hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Shiro doesn't leave his flat that often. That's a thing that Lance has noticed, although they don't talk about it. It's a thing Lance understands, too; it's too stressful for Shiro to wear the prosthetic which never seems to fit completely, which always leaves marks after wearing it for too long. But it's all that Shiro has, right now. Without it, Lance has noticed _this_ as well, he seems to feel unwell when they're outside, although he always jokes about it, just like has joked about it on the day they've met.

Additionally, Lance thinks that Shiro is not good with crowds and loud and sudden noises. He's not a people person. Not _anymore_ , maybe. But Shiro doesn't talk about it, and Lance doesn't ask him. It's none of his business.

However, Lance swears to himself, should Shiro ever _want_ to talk about it, then Lance will be there for him with open ears and open arms.

So they spend most of their shared time at Shiro's place or at Keith's dorm, and both is good, even though Shiro cannot cook at all and Lance keeps wondering how a twenty-year-old man manages to survive without being able to cook anything more difficult than mac and cheese. They get take-away most of the time, and sometimes Lance does the cooking, but only sometimes and only when he's feeling particularly nice - which actually happens way more often than at home. But only because his siblings cook from time to time as well.

When they're settled down on the sofa with their food, then there are mostly two things to do: video games and homework.

Shiro really is a great teacher, if a bit strict sometimes, strict and unrelenting. Like when Lance prefers doodling circles and dick pics into his books instead of doing maths. Or when Shiro tries to tell him about very uninteresting history stuff and Lance pretends his ears are bleeding and he's dying - while making gargling noises of doom and death, of course.

It's nice of Shiro to never get angry at him. To never get loud or upset, to never do the shouty thing his dad sometimes does when Lance comes home with yet another bad grade. But sometimes, Shiro looks at Lance with an expression in his eyes that is so much worse than any kind of shouting: with disappointment.

That is the main reason why Lance is actually trying to better himself, why he's learning and working and asking questions about things he doesn't understand yet. When school starts again, he can see his grades getting better. His teachers are surprised, his parents proud, and Hunk is overjoyed.

Hunk tries to get him to spill the beans about having managed to turn this sinking ship around (the one he's been the captain of, the S.S. Failure), but Lance isn't really ready to answer his questions yet, only tells him about the new friends he's found. Friends that study with him.

As long as he doesn't know what he thinks about Shiro and Keith (or what he wants from them, or how far he wants to go with them), they are his little secret. It would be awkward to say that he's gotten one or two boyfriends and then they find out they aren't compatible at all. Even though he knows that Hunk, just like his parents, would cheer him on whatever the case. They'd be behind every decision he makes, unless it's a very stupid and/or very dangerous one. Which neither Shiro nor Keith are. Not stupid. Not dangerous.

Still, he keeps them to himself and keeps studying and keeps being more and more awesome at everything. And as he comes over to Shiro's place again to grin at him like sunshine and sparkles and to shove the proof of a bunch of As in his face, he feels incredibly amazing while watching Shiro's face light up with surprise and pride and happiness.

"I could have done that on my own, you know," Lance says. "I just wanted to test your skills as a teacher."

"Sure."

"Yeah, sure!" But he keeps grinning and he starts laughing at Shiro ruffling his hair with affection.

"We have to celebrate that, I guess." Shiro looks at him for a few long moments, frowning to himself. Then he nods, a small twitch of his head. "Yeah. Go grab your jacket, we're going out."

Lance blinks in confusion. "Huh?"

"I was thinking about a good movie and then we're having something to eat? To celebrate you no longer sucking at maths."

"I thought you're no fan of movies and restaurants.?"

But Shiro has already gotten up and out of the room. Lance can hear him open his closet, rummaging through it. "There are exceptions," he shouts from the other room.

He gets up and over to him, to Shiro's bedroom where Shiro is still standing in front of the closet. "Exceptions? What do you mean? Is that gonna be something like a date?"

Shiro is silent for a few long seconds. Only then he dares to turn his head into Lance's direction with a smile. "Yes. A date. Of course, only if you want it to be one."

Lance is silent, too, and looks him up and down. Looks at his wide, muscular chest and shoulders, at his face with the high cheekbones and the calm and gentle gray eyes. Lets his gaze travel down to the point where his sleeve ends.

The thought of how much he must mean to Shiro makes him smile. And say: "I'd love to have a date with you."

__

This evening is the one where they kiss for the first time. Well, to be honest, it's actually Lance kissing Shiro, not the other way around. Not at first.

__

Shiro is driving him home. He's doing great, really, Lance remarks, and Shiro explains to him that he's driving a car with automatics, so that he doesn't have to shift gears manually (unless he wants to go in reverse or get his car to fit into a parking space). Lance thinks that's a smart thing to integrate in cars

"Although this kind of car is mostly made for old people, not for cripples like me."

"You're not ... " Lance blurts out, but closes his mouth immediately, because he has learned not to talk about these things. Because he knows the slurs and insults people yell at each other as soon as someone differs just a little from the norm, or rather, from the majority. Because he has learned that one shouldn't call people _that_. But he has also seen the way that Shiro stiffens when there are too many people in the queue at the supermarket or in front of the movie theater. The way he sometimes flinches at too sudden, too loud noises. "You're doing fine," he says quietly and regrets it at once.

"Except for my little handicap," Shiro says as they're driving into the street Lance lives in. "Get it? Handicap. Because of the hand." Shiro chuckles at his own joke, and Lance fumbles with the seams of his shirt. With a sigh, Shiro shakes his head and parks the car, turns the engine off. "I'm sorry." He turns to Lance with a tired look on his face. "I shouldn't joke about it."

"You of all people have every right to do that."

"But I'm making you uncomfortable."

Quickly, Lance shakes his head. "No. Never. Not you. I just want ... " He pauses here, looking for the right words. "... I like you. I want you to be okay."

It makes Shiro laugh. "I am. I'm alive. I go to uni. I have great friends; Keith, you, a few others. I'm very much okay, Lance. Not at least because I think we had a very nice evening together." He frowns a little. "Even though the movie wasn't as good as I'd hoped."

Lance smiles a little. "I almost fell asleep."

"You did great. You were a brave little soldier, not leaving your post."

"Yeah, but only 'cause it would have been a dick move. You invited me. And I wanted to spend time with you."

"... yes." Shiro is silent and looks back out of the front window, then shrugs his shoulders. "I had fun."

"Me too ... "

The silence between them is not exactly uncomfortable, but still a bit strange. Lance still isn't that much of a fan of being quiet. Usually, he starts babbling in those moments, starts to talk more than he should just to make sure there's any kind of distraction going on. But now, now he's only looking at Shiro, watches the shadows of the street lights dance across his face, sees the unsure expression in his eyes and the hard line of his mouth. "I like being with you."

Shiro turns his head to look at him again, opens his mouth to smile and laugh and respond, but Lance hastily closes the distance between them and kisses him. His lips brush over the corner of Shiro's mouth and for a long, long moment he stays like this without moving a muscle. He can feel the seat belt press against his shoulder, digging into the skin of his neck, can feel Shiro's breath ghost over his cheek. He can feel the exact moment that Shiro's breath hitches.

And then Lance kisses him on the lips, throws his arms around his neck and closes his eyes as Shiro slowly starts kissing back.  
__

It's different with Keith. Somehow ... no, not more natural. But easier. He doesn't want to impress Keith, not anymore at least. Keith doesn't seem that much more experienced than him, that much more grown up. He doesn't resemble Shiro in that way. Of course one can have a lot of fun with Shiro, too, can joke around and just hang out, but it's easier with Keith.

With Keith, he's never getting tired of complaining when he isn't one hundred percent fine with something. Like right now. Keith called him some hours ago, invited him for a trip, and Lance agreed, jumping for joy. He came over and got into his car (Shiro's car as he's noticed somewhere along the ride. Or _their_ car, maybe. He doesn't know. He'll have to ask eventually.)

Anyway. Now they're here. He's here. Exhausted and annoyed and sweaty, and all of that just because Keith had the really amazing idea to go hiking on the hottest day of the century. Lance hates him for it. And he tells him. Often. Loudly. As good as he can, considering he's gasping for breath and whining a lot. But with good reason!

"We're almost there," Keith says again, like he's said about fifty times in as many hours. "Just a bit higher."

Yeah, he's the one to talk! Keith doesn't seem to mind at all that it's _Lance_ who's carrying most of his equipment, doesn't seem to notice it at all. His hair is floating in the breeze, not a single drop of sweat to be seen on his forehead and his cheeks, and Lance hates him for it, for he has to fight step for step, against the weight on his shoulders and the heat and everything.

(Okay, _okay_ , he's not carrying _most_ of Keith's equipment, he's just pissed off that Keith hasn't told him beforehand about his stupid plans of climbing the stupid hill out of town. Like, for real. Couldn't they have done that in the winter? Or not at all? Just asking!)

As soon as they've reached the top, Lance lets himself sink down in the grass, stretching his limbs. "I'm totally never gonna move again," he swears.

"Well, you have to get down eventually."

"Don't remind me! ... but the way down should be easier, right?"

"I can shove you, if you want me to."

"Not if I shove you first!"

Keith laughs, and Lance does so, too, as soon as he's managed to catch his breath a little. _... that's the way it is_ , he thinks while Keith fumbles with his equipment and climbs one or two or fifty trees to get the highest ground and best camera angles. _That's the way he is._

And maybe that's the way he can catch some glimpses of Keith's ass. But only maybe.

"What are we even doing here?" he asks when Keith passes him for the third time, looking up to the sky as if there's some sort of heavenly sign written across the clouds to lead him the way.

"Sun's going down soon," Keith says, as if that explains anything.

"Ah," Lance says, as if he understands anything.

Keith turns around to face him. "Let's wait a little longer."

"How much longer?"

"Half an hour maybe. While we're waiting, you can -" He points to a spot a little further, one where they can overlook the whole city. "- assemble everything over there." When Lance groans in annoyance and rolls his eyes, Keith merely sighs, hiding a laugh. "I meant the food. I got some sandwiches. And coke."

Well, okay. That does sound a bit better. So Lance scoots over a few steps and starts looting whatever Keith has brought with him, glancing over to him a few times.

Keith finishes setting up his camera and sits down next to Lance. He reaches out and steals the sandwich directly out of his hand.

Lance sulks.

Keith grins.

And then the sun sets. The giant ball of fire disappears beneath the horizon, painting the whole city as well as the landscapes close to it in red and golden light. Lance watches it happen, and is a little surprised at how pretty everything is, at how much he likes it. Next to him, Keith chomps down on his sandwich and watches the whole thing as well. And next to both of them, the camera just keeps on clicking and taking pictures.

"So that's why we're here."

"Mhh. I'm waiting for the perfect moment and the perfect picture."

"I think all of them are gonna turn out perfect."

Keith grins at him. "You're so easy to please. But then, I was just like you when I was your age."

"Hey! You're only one year older than me!"

"Yeah. I was definitely like that when I was your age," Keith repeats and gifts Lance with a gentle smile. "... I'm glad you're here. With me."

"I ... " Lance bites down on his lower lip and swallows around the lump in his throat. "I'm glad you took me here. I like being with you. Both of you. I'm glad I got to meet you two." He doesn't look at Keith, just keeps staring at the sunset.

And then Keith reaches for his hand. "That's good. That's what it should be like. When you're with friends, I mean."

"One should feel at ease?"

"Yeah. At ease and content."

"We're good friends, I guess."

"I'd like to be more."

_Oh_ , Lance thinks. _Oh_. And because it's a good 'oh', he isn't too surprised when Keith leans over to him to kiss him.

It's different with him. Different than with Shiro. Just like everything is different with Keith, a little easier, a little faster. It's easy to hang onto him, to run his fingers through his hair. It's easy to lick across his lower lip. It's so very easy to let his hands wander over his chest - just like Keith is doing it to him, almost mirroring him, almost copying his rhythm -, to gently shove the jacket off his shoulders.

Keith nudges him back onto the grass, and Lance pulls on his shirt to make him come closer, hover above him without breaking the kiss. They have to do that, eventually, but only for Lance to push Keith's shirt over his head. Then their lips lock again in another lazy kiss and Lance can let his fingers roam over naked and warm skin, warmed by the last few moments of sunlight. He can brush his fingers over Keith's spine until Keith shivers and gasps against his lips.

Keith's hips move against his own, and Lance releases a shaky breath, digging his nails into the tender flesh of Keith's back. Muscles stiffen and move underneath his fingertips as Keith grinds against him, through the thick layers of both their jeans.

It makes him groan again and again, makes Keith's name tumble over his lips, quiet and breathless gasps that Keith swallows with his lips whenever he kisses Lance.

The tips of Keith's fingers wander over his neck, making him shiver. A hand brushes over the fabric of his shirt, then over the seams, only to sneak underneath and caress his stomach. Keith's hands are cold, his nails a little too long, his kisses impatient and greedy.

It's perfect like this.

Lance, on the other hand, feels like an idiot, like a complete noob for not doing much more than clawing at Keith's back, leaves marks and scratches, but when Keith moans into one of their many kisses, he grows bolder, more desperate and more wanton, and after a bit of fumbling, he actually manages to open Keith's pants and shove his hand in. And. ... oh.

Keith is already hard against his skin and as soon as Lance manages to think again - his brain felt like restarting for a second -, he quickly wraps his fingers around Keith's dick, encloses it in his fist so that Keith can move the way he needs to.

Hot breath ghosts over his cheek and neck and Keith shudders against him, huffs out a laugh as he cups the front of Lance's crotch through his clothes. It's enough to make Lance gasp and buck his hips, and Keith laughs again, a soft sound, a rumble in his chest, and then the fingers move to his zipper, finally - oh - opening his pants to feel him up completely.

And oh yes, Lance wants to be felt up, thank you very much.

He slings an arm around Keith's back to hold onto him while he moves his hips, while he impatiently rocks into Keith's hand and quickly mimics Keith's movements, stroking the soft, hot flesh under his fingertips.  

A thumb brushes over his slit, and Lance actually yelps, eyes wide and surprised, totally caught off guard at the feeling. It's not something he usually does to himself. With his own hand, he just prefers the steady up and down motions, the quick, unrelenting strokes that he knows can bring him off. He seldomly has felt the need to experiment.

But Keith seemingly will have none of it: He chuckles into Lance's ear, licking along the shell with his tongue (oh hello, sudden images in Lance's mind of where else exactly he would want that tongue to be) before gently biting the lobe. His hand, meanwhile, never stops moving; along his shaft, the thumb rubbing the head of his dick, the fingertips almost accidentally brushing the base of his balls.

It's maddening.

It's wonderful.

It's just Keith.

And it makes him want to keep up with him, to make feel Keith just as good as he feels right now, with sparks of pleasure jolting through his body and along his spine, breathy moans tumbling over his lips and Keith's name always, always escaping his mouth.

His hand closes around Keith a little more, grips him a little tighter, and when that actually, finally undoes the calm and almost stoic Keith he's gotten to know, when that actually makes him groan Lance's name and throw his head back, lashes fluttering like butterfly wings, Lance comes undone far, far too quickly. He arches his back, pressing into the never-resting touch of Keith's fingers and comes with a surprised sound, coating Keith's fingers and his own pants with his jizz.

"... oh," is all he can say after a second, after his heartbeat returns to normal. And this time, it's not a positive 'oh', it's one that makes him want to hide in shame and never come back.

But Keith just looks at him with a gentle smile on his features and brushes his cheek with his lips. "'s fine," he slurs in his ear, rocking against the hand still in his pants, still curled around Keith's dick. "'s fine. Just go on. Just a little more."

It takes Lance a moment, but in the end, he does gather up the courage to go on, to caress and stroke Keith the way he deserves, the way Keith has done to him (he pulls a little on Keith's foreskin, just out of curiosity. It makes Keith whimper and Lance's cheeks grow hotter than ever in his life), until Keith comes with a tiny gasp and a smile on his face. He collapses on top of Lance, satisfied and hopefully just as overwhelmed as Lance is.

... maybe not, though. Keith should be used to this. After all, he has a boyfriend, right? Keith should be used to sex, hopefully to good sex, and Lance is just a blushing virgin and-

"Shut up."

"What?! I didn't say anything!"

"I can practically hear your thoughts." Keith's nose brushes over Lance's cheek and Keith slowly pulls his hand out of Lance's pants (while Lance clears his throat and desperately tries not to stare at the sticky white liquid on Keith's fingers) to wipe it off on the grass. Which is a great idea. Which is why Lance does so, too. "Okay, maybe I'm not so much hearing them but reading them on your face."

"Ah."

"Yeah. You're worried." A small crease appears between Keith's brows. "Because you're an idiot."

"That's not true at all!" Lance protests and crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking Keith straight in the eye before lowering his gaze with a pout. "... that's not true at all," he repeats quietly.

A small grin appears on Keith's face. "What isn't? You being worried? Or you being an idiot?"

"I- ... I'd love to say both, but, well ... "

"You're comparing yourself to Shiro."

Lance squints. "Are you a Jedi? If so, then stop the mind reading thing at once, okay?"

"Dude, it's practically written on your face." Keith rolls his eyes and shrugs, growing serious again. "You did good. I liked it. I hope you did, too." After a small nod and another wave of heat on Lance's face Keith continues: "It' not a competition between you and him or me and him. Or me and you. It's us. All three of us. If you want it to be. You're in this with us, not against us, nobody's trying to turn this into a contest, okay?"

Lance forces himself to take a deep breath or two. Or twenty. He opens his mouth and closes it again, because the first thought that crosses his mind isn't a smart one. He tries once more - and closes his mouth again, because he actually doesn't know if he's able to say what he's thinking. ... and when he tries a third time he just feels like a fish gaping for air.

Keith chuckles and it‘s warm and low and cheeky and when Lance dares to look at him again, he discovers something in Keith's eyes that he cannot prevent thinking of as anything else than adoration. He sighs deeply and hugs Keith lightly, just pulling him down until Keith's cheek brushes against his, until Keith rests his arms to both sides of Lance's head. "... I think I finally understand you two and the thing between you. I guess. A little."

"A little is better than not at all," Keith hums into his ear and kisses his earlobe, making Lance shiver, making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. "Wanna let go of me for a second? I think the cam's done and I need to check the pictures."

"Wanna stay like this for a few more minutes?"

He can feel Keith smile against his skin.

They stay just like this, just close enough for Lance to feel the rise and fall of Keith's chest, close enough for him to feel Keith's heartbeat in line with his own.

Okay, he thinks. That's okay. That's even more than okay. However, he still cannot help himself but ask: "What if it doesn't work out? With the three of us?" It is one of those questions he actually doesn't want to know the answer to, just a thought he utters out loud. Keith keeps silent, and Lance sees that as an invitation to go on with those stupid thoughts: "What if I like one of you more?"

"You're talking about me."

Keep quiet. Keep breathing. His pulse quickens a bit. A muttered "mhh," and a shrug is all that he offers as a response.

"He'd roll with it, I already told you so."

"Isn't that unfair on him?"

"No."

"And on me?"

Keith tries to retreat and sit up, but Lance keeps holding him close, holds him a little more tightly now. After two or three seconds Keith stops tensing and sighs in Lance's ear. "You know what we're like. What this is like. You knew what you were getting into. There is nothing we'll force you to do - nothing _I'll_ force you to do. And nothing you'll have to force yourself to do." He stretches, distributing his weight differently. "But if you wanna know if I'm ever breaking up with Shiro for someone else, then the answer is no. Not even for you."

"What about him?"

Now Keith does straighten himself to look down on Lance, to shake his head with a smile. "I get it now, _that's_ how it is: You wanna get rid of me to keep Shiro all for yourself!"

Lance can't help but grin back at him. "Yeah. Yeah, that's the only reason why I climbed this stupid hill with you. I'm just waiting for the right moment to shove you off and watch you fall." They both laugh at that, and Lance feels part of the tension evaporating in thin air. He smiles. "I like Shiro."

"What a coincidence, I like him, too."

"I think he may stay."

"How _gracious_ of you, Your Highness," Keith says, voice thick with sarcasm. Then he gasps, his eyes widen at Lance shoving his hands in Keith's back pockets, at Lance daring to pinch his butt. "Hey! Stop that!"

"Why?" He grins broadly, from one ear to the other. "Is that too much for you right now? I'm not allowed to touch your ass until the third date?" Lance can't help but laugh when Keith bumps a fist against his shoulder, and he draws his hands back, holding them out in a protective gesture. "Okay, okay, I get it. Your ass is off-limits until the fourth date, it's okay!"

Keith shakes his head at him, but his lips are twitching a little, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile as he fails to stay serious. Slowly, he bends down again to press a kiss to Lance's temple. "You're an idiot."

"Sure, whatever you say. But that's no answer."

No. No, it's not. But he gets his answer only a few moments later, for Keith is pressing his hips against Lance's own, making him gasp in surprise, and then in a multitude of other emotions as skilled teeth start nibbling their way from his jaw to his lips. "I think," Keith says and bites down on Lance's lower lip, eliciting yet another breathless gasp, making him buck his hips and dig his fingers into Keith's shoulders, "the first few times it'd be better if you only watched."

... oh. Lance imagines it immediately, imagines sitting besides them, with them; Keith is underneath Shiro, moaning loudly, his gaze dark with need and want, and Shiro screws his eyes shut as he fucks into him, as his dick splits Keith in two again and again with every move. Their fingers are intertwined and when they kiss, it's hungry and desperate, and ... oh.

Keith smiles against his lips. "I hope nobody's waiting for you to come home early," he whispers against his skin.

Words fail him. He can only shake his head, can only catch Keith's lips with his own, can only lick and kiss and bite back. "I'm totally free tonight," he rasps between kisses, and his eyes slide shut as Keith's hand curls around his cock again.

(And again. And again.)


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes he doesn't understand how Shiro manages to bear with him. How he can be so patient whenever they're bent over Lance's homework and Lance is on the verge of tearing the pages out of the book and claiming that a wild dog ate them (the problem in question is his biology homework by the way. He's more or less doing okay at all other subjects, doing fine, but biology and he are not friends, they weren't friends back then when he had to read about genetics and pea experiments, and they aren't now, and most likely they'll never be).  
  
Sometimes he just doesn't understand Shiro. At all.  
  
It's easier with Keith. Somehow. That's not to say that the time he's spending with Shiro is not amazing either - because it is. Amazing. Shiro is funny. Shiro can laugh at himself. Shiro is smart and nice and helpful and actually pretty perfect.  
  
And that's why it's easier with Keith. Because Keith has his quirks, his temperament, because sometimes Keith is so frustrated and annoyed by something that he screams and curses and massages his temples, a feeble attempt of calming himself down so that he doesn't completely lose his composure. Lance knows all about _that_ \- Lance is no different, after all. Shiro, on the other hand, is. Very different. Very mature, calm and composed.  
  
And that's why Lance sometimes feels overwhelmed in Shiro's presence. Intimidated. Inexperienced. Because ... Shiro is already going to uni, and Lance isn't (Keith is also studying at a university, but Keith can be an idiot, that's the lovable thing about him, Shiro is never an idiot). Shiro had already graduated from school when he was younger than Lance is now. Shiro has ... well, it's obvious that Shiro has some sort of life experience that Lance lacks, has seen and experienced things that Lance never wants to see and live through. At all. And Shiro has that goddamn angelic patience that sometimes makes Lance see red.  
  
That's why he looks at him now, looks at him sitting on the sofa and skimming through a book. He frowns slightly. And then he says: "I slept with Keith." He says 'slept' because it sounds more drastic, more mature than 'we jerked each other off a couple of times' because he wants to know what Shiro has to say about Lance doing the do with Keith.  
  
Shiro gives him a thumbs-up.  
  
Lance hates him a little, but not really, because nobody in their right mind could hate Shiro. "Is that all you have to say?"  
  
Now Shiro looks up from his book, looks at Lance sitting at the desk, face turned away from his stupid school book. "... congratulations?" Shiro tries slowly and with raised eyebrows. "I- what should I- I'm happy for you?"  
  
Lance is silent.  
  
Shiro sighs and tilts his head. "Help me, I really have no idea what you expect me to do. I thought you wanted that? Did something go wrong?" Shiro hesitates. "Was it too early for you? Were you feeling uneasy with the whole thing?"  
  
... and that's another reason why you just can't be mad at Shiro: He's so worried, so loving, it almost seems unrealistic. But Shiro just likes him, really likes him, even though Lance sometimes cannot understand it, because sometimes - no, often - he feels immature in comparison to Shiro, too young and too inexperienced and childish. He shakes his head and forces himself to smile. "No. Everything was all right ... I just ... still kinda don't get why it doesn't bother you."  
  
"Oh." The relief on Shiro's face is obvious, Lance can see his body stop being stiff and losing all tension, can hear him let out a quiet sigh. "Well if it's just that." Shiro quickly raises his hand to interrupt Lance even before Lance can actually get a word out. "Don't get me wrong, it's just that I'm glad you're both okay."  
  
"Yes," he says softly, and this time his smile is real. "We're okay, I'm just ... I'm just not used to this poly thing, and I ..." _Okay, take a breath, breathe, think, string a complete sentence together, then talk._ "I know you'd be fine if only Keith and I were doing the sex thing ... you know, just like Keith and you are doing it. But I wonder ... I mean ..." _Great, so much for articulating complete sentences, wow Lance, be proud of yourself!_ He closes his eyes for a moment and gathers his thoughts. When he opens them again, he looks straight at Shiro, noticing the little crease between his eyebrows. His heart skips a beat. "Why don't you want to sleep with me? Is it because I'm younger than Keith?"  
  
"What?" Shiro's face reflects far too many emotions at once. Lance sees the confusion, the uncertainty, the relief. And maybe a little humor as well. Then he sighs softly and shakes his head, puts the book aside and slowly walks over to press a kiss on Lance's hair.  
  
It's not the first time Shiro does that, pet and stroke and caress his hair - he often does, when they sit next to each other and talk, or when Lance watches a movie with him, or when Lance sits in front of one of Shiro's consoles and Shiro watches him, his head resting against Lance's shoulder with half-closed eyes - but it's _all_ that Shiro does. With him. They haven't even shared a kiss since this one time in the car, and yes, that, too, is one of the reasons why it's easier with Keith.  
  
He feels Shiro's breath against his skin and leans his head against his chest, closing his eyes as Shiro puts his arm around him. His big, warm hand travels across his back. "... that's the reason, right?" he asks softly. The thought makes him sad. The thought of not being as valued and treasured as Keith. Sure, he knows he won't be able to become the number one friend or - God forbid - lover, after all, they've known each other all their lives, but Lance already feels so young in Shiro's presence, so it hurts that his age is what keeps them apart. A stupid number. He's an adult, Shiro is only two years older than him ... and still ...  
  
"It has nothing to do with that."  
  
Lance blinks in confusion and looks up at him, feeling even more confusion wash over him at noticing that Shiro seems to be just as sad as Lance.  
  
"I thought ... I ..." Shiro scoffs quietly and shakes his head, then slowly pulls away from Lance to put his fingers to his cheek, to gently brush his thumb over the skin. "I'm not Keith."  
  
"You don't say."  
  
"Lance."  
  
"Sorry. Didn't want to interrupt you."   
  
Shiro nods and keeps on stroking his cheek. "Keith is someone who follows his instincts. Keith says what he thinks, and he does what he thinks is best depending on the situation. I'm not like that. I guess I'm just thinking too much, but ..." He pauses and tilts his head to the side, looks at a point just above Lance's right ear. Lance can watch his Adam's apple bounce up and down as he swallows. "I thought you felt sorry for me. That one time in the car. I thought you only kissed me out of pity."  
  
"What? I- No!"  
  
"I know. I know, okay? Now I know that. But because you kissed me just this once and never again, I thought ... well ... that's just the way it is, and we both should stay friends."  
  
"Oh." Lance frowns. That explains a lot. "And I thought, because you're more experienced than me, just like Keith, but have never gone further, unlike Keith, you don't like me. Like that."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So we completely missed each other's point by a mile."  
  
"So to speak."  
  
"Wow, we really are complete idiots."  
  
Shiro's mouth twitches a bit, and then he really grins. "Keith's been saying that for weeks."  
  
"Same, but I saw it as a more universal statement. Keith often tells me that I'm an idiot." Usually right before he kisses Lance.  
  
"So," Shiro says while looking at him, shrugging his shoulders a little, lips tight in an uncertain smile. "Wanna continue being complete idiots? Just, you know, together?"  
  
Lance looks at him, watches him for one long moment. And then he slowly gets up to embrace Shiro, wrap his arms around him and kiss him on the lips.  
  
It's a lot like their first kiss (careful and hesitant, lips locked in teasing promises and slow movements), but now Lance has gotten some very private lessons from Keith, now he knows what to do, knows when to dig his teeth into Shiro's lower lip, knows how to actually do the kissing thing without it being awkward, without the angle being bad and teeth clicking against teeth. Shiro makes a very soft sound as Lance worries his lower lip between his teeth, as he slowly licks it, and as Lance opens one of his eyes just a bit, he can't help but grin at Shiro's face growing red, just the tiniest hint of colour on his pale cheeks.  
  
He hugs Shiro tighter, burying his fingers in his hair like he always does with Keith. Even though Shiro's hair is much shorter, giving him less leverage to grab and pull and dig his nails into. So he can't do much more than brush his fingers across the back of Shiro's neck cropped hair, scrape and scratch over his and claw at him.  
  
"Lance ... "   
  
Nothing more than that. Just his name. Just a whisper tumbling over Shiro's lips, dark and rough and hoarse. But it's enough, more than enough, to make Lance shiver and swallow hard and audibly as he slowly lets go of Shiro. He watches Shiro's eyelids flutter as he opens his eyes. They are close, so close, close enough for him to see that Shiro's gray eyes are dark, his pupils dilated; close enough for him to see how wet Shiro's lips are, shiny and half-open, and a little swollen everywhere Lance bit down.  
  
It's different with Keith. With Keith, he has no time to pay attention to these things, has no chance at all, because Keith is like a flame that sets him on fire, swallowing him completely until his world is turned upside down, until he simply cannot focus on anything else than how much he wants Keith, wants him, needs him and _can have him whenever he wants to._  
  
Keith is overwhelming. Shiro is not. He is an open book of feelings and love.  
  
Lance isn't really sure, but he thinks maybe he likes this just a little more.  
  
He takes a deep breath and leans his head against Shiro's shoulder, burying his face slightly in the crook of his neck and sighing against his skin as Shiro's fingers brush against the back of his head and hair. He shivers happily at the feeling of comfort and security. "Do you want to," he says, trying out the words while being incredibly glad that Shiro can't see his face right now, "do you want to sleep with me?"  
  
"Sure. I'd love to. If you want me to."  
  
"Come on, man, why else would I ask?" A strange, undefinable sound is all he gets in return. Lance frowns, pushing his lower lip a bit forward. Then he laughs at himself. "No, I really mean it. I want to. You want to. That's cool! And we're okay, right? I mean ... are we okay? Even if I was the world's biggest idiot and fucked up the positive vibes and the mood?"  
  
"We were both idiots." Shiro pats the back of his head. "And I think there's nothing you can do to really fuck up the mood. I like you. I'm always having a great time when you're here."    
  
Lance peeps up at him. And then he grins, placing a hand on Shiro's chest and lowering his voice to a sultry little purr. "Well then, Mr. Shirogane, shouldn't you carry me to your bedroom and teach your eager, young and remarkably pretty student everything else he should know?"  
  
Shiro blinks. Squints at him. And grimaces. "Okay, I was wrong, mood's fucked up."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Mr. Shirogane, really? Wow, I feel old. I feel like my dad. Wow. And ew. Big ew."  
  
"Shiro ..."  
  
"Yeah, no, sorry, you screwed up, I'm gonna take a year to get it up again."  
  
"... you're shitting me."  
  
"Mr. Shirogane. Wow, why don't you just call me gramps and drive me around in a wheelchair?"  
  
"... you're definitely shitting me."  
  
"Maybe a little bit."  
  
Lance hates him, but not really, because he just couldn't hate Shiro. Ever. And maybe, just maybe, the way his face scrunches up in mocked disgust before he starts to laugh (bright and loud, with his head tilted a little and his eyes brimming with fondness) is what really makes him fall in love with Shiro.  
  
_  
  
They still don't sleep with each other. At least not now, or even during the next few hours. Instead, they enjoy the quiet, more relaxed atmosphere. They're talking and laughing and hugging each other while watching a movie together. Because they have all the time in the world. Because they don't need to rush anything. Because with Keith it's wild, impulsive and hasty and because it's different with Shiro, with him it's calm and protective and warm.  
  
Lance thinks it's a pity they barely spend time together, all three of them, but he understands that they're all busy with their own assignments and appointments. After all, Lance has enough to do with school now that he has finally found reasons to make an effort, and Shiro has his own classes and no time to drive downtown to them every few days. And Keith ... Keith is never quite finished with what he does. But somehow Lance can understand that - homework will be done eventually. He just has to do what he's told to do. But art is different. You can always draw one more line, improve or change a whole painting, a little at first, and then again, and suddenly it turns into something completely different. That's what art is like. That's why you can always take just one more photo, wait just one more second and hope for the perfect shot.  
  
That's why Lance is either hanging out with Keith or Hunk or Shiro. But more or less never with both Keith and Shiro, and so far he still hasn't quite dared to tell Hunk about those two (though he sometimes hints at it, tells Hunk he's met somebody during the holidays, someone he enjoys spending time with, but he hasn't gotten around to telling him that it's a guy. No, not just one guy, but two ... he hasn't manage to spill those beans yet, not because he doesn't trust Hunk, not because he thinks Hunk would avoid him - he'd never, he is his best friend since childhood, he understands everything. Hunk is something like sunshine on two legs, so that's not it. Rather ... hmm ... well ... he hasn't found the right words to explain what he's feeling for them, yet. Because he's fallen in love with Keith, head over heels, because Keith turns his world around, and he ... hasn't fallen in love with Shiro, but somehow already is in love with him. Although he didn't think that would be possible, it just happened. Even though he's seen and wanted Keith first), but that'll come. Soon. Sometime soon. Really.  
  
But for now, he enjoys how natural it feels to be hugged by Shiro, to have his big strong hand on his back, in his hair when they're kissing or when Lance leans his head against his shoulder and just closes his eyes; be caressed, inhale Shiro's scent (Sandalwood and something else, something that smells just the way it would feel like to lick a glacier, cool and peculiar and very strange, but very, very pleasant ... as long as your tongue doesn't get stuck. Although Lance would ... uhm ... he probably shouldn't pursue that idea any further as long as they are sitting this close to each other, otherwise it would be awkward ... or decisive for his future sex life. But probably just awkward).  
  
It should be just like everything else in their relationship: natural and without compulsion. One thing after the other. And even though Lance has secretly imagined – with his head and especially his hands under the blanket - what it would be like to ride Shiro and cling to him, to dig his nails into the muscles of his back, while kissing him again and again, digging his teeth into his lower lip as he's  been doing over and over since their confession and that one, very particular kiss, he knows for sure that their first time would definitely not be like that. More like with Keith ... just less impulsive maybe. Shiro would be slower, more certain with every movement, every touch, when he puts his hand around Lance's cock and-  
  
"... Lance?"  
  
"Huh?!" Oh. Oh, shit. His brain has been occupied with other thoughts for a moment and he's completely forgotten that he' still sitting here, half on Shiro's lap, half next to him on the sofa. His cheeks feel hot and his pants are getting tight and he's hoping that Shiro won't notice either. Just ... please don't look down. "Sorry. Spaced out for a second."  
  
"Yeah, I noticed." Shiro looks at him questioningly, thoughtfully, perhaps a little worried (and Lance realizes that his kind of gaze makes him feel dizzy thanks to a stupid flock of butterflies in his stomach. What are they even doing there? Get out!). "But you're okay?"  
  
"Mhh." Don't look down, don't give him a reason to see this giant raging boner that could poke someone's eye out.   
  
Shiro looks at him for a few more seconds and then smiles a bit. "Okay," he says. And again: "Okay." And then he pulls Lance closer to give him a kiss on the temple.  
  
Lance leans against him, taking a deep breath. *Count to ten*, he tells himself. _One. Two._  
  
Shiro kisses his cheek.  
  
 _Three. Four. Five._  
  
Shiro's fingers touch his neck, gently scratching over the sensitive skin, making him shiver.  
  
 _Five and a half. Five three-quarters._  
  
Shiro's lips brush over his cheek again. Hot breath ghosts over his flushed skin.  
  
 _Almost six. Six, not sex._  
  
Shiro's tongue travels down his jaw, his teeth digging gently into Lance's earlobe.  
  
 _... one. One. One._  
  
Shiro's lips are now directly at his ear, and Lance keeps shuddering a bit, staring forward at the screen where a car is exploding and everything is going up in flames, and he fears the fire on TV would never be able to feel as hot as all the spots on his body Shiro has been touching.  
  
 _Zero-point-five, fuck, Lance, think of something else, think of maths and Iverson pushing you face-first into frying fat because you've forgotten your homework, think of-_  
  
"You know," Shiro whispers very, very quietly, "that I have two functional eyes and more than two functional brain cells? I can count two and two together when you convulsively fold your hands in your lap like that. Are you scared I can see how hard you are?"  
  
 _Abort mission, abort mission!_  
  
Is he doing that? Oh. Oh yes, he is. Now that Shiro mentioned it, he notices it too, notices the cramps in his fingers, the way he clamps his lips shut and bites down onto his tongue until it hurts. "Ten," he mumbles softly and helplessly.  
  
Shiro moves away a bit, looks at him in confusion, eyes him up and down while Lance doesn't dare looking back at him. And then he smiles, pressing another kiss on Lance's temple. "Don't fret it. I know what it's like to be a horny teen, I was your age, too, a while ago."  
  
"Why are you guys always bringing up my age?" Lance asks a little harsher than intended.  
  
"Why do you think?" Shiro shrugs. "Because you always get upset and that's cute."  
  
"I'm not-"  
  
"But."  
  
"But I-"  
  
"And I like that about you. Like everything else. I like you, I care about you. I _love_ you. "  
  
Oh. He blinks once, twice and turns his head a little, to look directly at Shiro. "Oh," he says, out loud this time, when there is nothing but affection and honesty in Shiro's gaze. "Oh," he says one more time, realizing that they're both nothing more but complete idiots and that he doesn't need to feel embarrassed in Shiro's company. "I ... love you, too."  
  
"I'd been hoping that."  
  
Yes, Lance can actually kinda imagine that, even though imagining and thinking are  a bit tricky at the moment, with approximately ninety-nine percent of his blood floating around not in his brain but in certain other places. But even as mentally limited as he is right now, he understands how important all this love stuff is for Shiro. And in the middle of understanding, he also realizes how important it is for him as well.  
  
Because ... sure, Shiro is damn hot and could certainly just bench press him one-armed, and ... sure, what drew him to Keith in the first place were his good looks, and otherwise he wouldn't even have met Shiro at all. But he'd also never have slept-slash-done-nsfw-things-with-his-hands with Keith if he hadn't liked him. Liked as in liked his personality. Well, most of the time, sometimes Keith can be insufferable.  
  
Anyway. That's exactly the way it is with Shiro. The personality thing. Shiro is _not_ insufferable. Would he have an absolutely annoyingly angry hard-on even if Shiro weren't the most perfect person he ever met? … Yes. Yes, he would. Fuck. Bad example. But one-armed bench pressing is a really, really neat thought, okay? Like, hello? Super hot! But that's not what it's about right now. It's more about ... like, he wouldn't have wanted this thing between him and Shiro to be something serious if he hadn't really liked him. A lot.    
  
Yeah. Yeah, that sounds reasonable.  
  
"Lance?"  
  
"Y-yes?" _Play it cool. No, be cool. No. You're not cool. You need to pretend. ... damn._  
  
"Are you sure I should have heard the last few sentences?"  
  
 _Wait. Wait! What?_  
  
Shiro raises his eyebrows and smiles a little, nothing more than a small twitch of the corners of his mouth. "I mean, it's great that you think so highly of me, but I'm certainly not the 'most perfect person' ever."  
  
... shit.  
  
"And the bench pressing thing, uh, let me be honest, I'm not sure if that's wise? I'd worry about you falling off and-"  
  
Lance clasps a hand over Shiro's mouth. His cheeks are burning. He really hadn't thought that'd be possible, but his blood isn't only rushing between his legs but also in his face right now. Yeah, and people say guys aren't capable of multitasking.  
  
Shiro blinks.  
  
"Okay," Lance starts, trying to calm himself down. "Okay. I'm gonna take my hand away and we'll both pretend that the last five minutes never happened. Okay. Okay?"  
  
Shiro shrugs, and Lance decides that counts. He slowly withdraws his hand and sighs, scratching his neck in embarrassment. "Sorry. I mean ... sorry. I'm not really mentally with you right now. I am ... " Panicking. In love. Fuckable. Is that last one even a word?  
  
"Uncertain?" Shrio tries to help him out. "Overwhelmed? So horny that it's hard to think?"  
  
"..." He lets his shoulders hang. "All of that, yeah."  
  
Shiro looks at him for a long moment, brushes his hair out of his forehead with his fingers, then says: "If you want me to, I can do something about all of that."  
  
Of course he wants him to. He's been wanting it for weeks. He's thought about it every waking moment and also some not-so-awake moments, considering how many times he had to secretly wash his shorts and sometimes even the sheets in the early mornings. Nevertheless, it's all very sudden. Without even a word of warning. Just like in real life (ha!), Where of course you don't first debate for hours and then set up an eighteen-pages long contract about someday, hopefully, you will manage to find the time to have sex with each other.  
  
Actually, it shouldn't catch him this unprepared. It was the same with Keith. Things just happened. And all of it was so, so easy. But that was with Keith. And with Keith it's different. Easier. ... wow, it's really strange, constantly thinking about how different and how similar Shiro and Keith actually are.  
  
"Lance?"  
  
He squints and then flinches, and although he's been staring at Shiro's face the whole time, he's been absent-minded. only now can see the narrow crease between his eyebrows. That thing again. The thing that shows that he's worried. "Sorry," he says quietly and with a rueful smile on his lips. "Kinda spaced out a little."  
  
"You're doing that a lot lately." The crease becomes a little bigger. "Is everything alright? Did I do something wrong?"  
  
"I-no. You didn't, you'd never."  
  
Shiro doesn't look convinced. "Then what's wrong?"  
  
"I just- I just thought-" Lance pauses, sighs and shakes his head. "Why all of a sudden? Why now, why not at any time in the past two weeks, when I've been trying to jump you? "  
  
"..." Shiro looks aside and sighs. Lance sees him close his eyes for a moment as if he needs to gather his strength or thoughts or pray to an almighty deity. Then he turns his head back to him, a serious look on his face. "Because I'm an idiot and I had to be five hundred percent sure that you really want that."  
  
"I think I'm old enough to decide what I want and what I don't want."  
  
"I know. I know, really. Stop looking at me like you're about to hit me with the remote." Lance hasn't planned doing anything of the sort, but he puts the remote control, that he's been clenching his hand around surprisingly tightly, aside, so that Shiro can go on, "It's the first time that Keith and I are interested in the same person. "  
  
"Interested means what in that case?"  
  
"Oh, come on. You know exactly what it means. I have a crush on you and Keith has one on you, too. This time it's something serious for the both of us. Something we'd like to be a long-term thing, and not only a friendship with benefits. And I ... I just wanted to be sure that you don't feel overwhelmed or that it's not serious to you, and ... well, stuff like that. " He shrugs helplessly and casts his eyes aside again.  
  
Lance needs a moment to get it, to get Shiro. The way he congratulated him when he told him he slept with Keith. The way he said he could handle anything, no matter what Lance and Keith decide on. ... the way he thought Lance had just kissed him out of pity. "Oh," he says softly, and because it is not a good 'oh', but one that is born from exhaustion, weeks of worry and misunderstandings and stupidity - Shiro's, his own, maybe even Keith's, just so Lance still has someone to scold mentally - he says it again. "Oh."  
  
Shiro still doesn't look at him, and this time Lance touches his face with his fingertips, carefully tracing his cheek and jaw until he gently takes Shiro's face between his thumb and forefinger and turns it so Shiro has to look at him, straight into his eyes, straight at the tired and overwhelmed thin smile on his lips.  
  
"You thought I was just making out with you so I could collect bonus points from Keith."  
  
"Lance ..."  
  
"Wow, I should almost feel offended now."  
  
"Lance, I ..."  
  
"You're an idiot, and I love you, not necessarily because of that, because that isn't that great of a feature, maybe because I'm the same and it reminds me a bit of myself, but I still love you, even if you're an idiot and I'm an idiot. "  
  
"Lance," Shiro says again, but this time with a faint brightness in his eyes, this time he snorts softly and amused and shakes his head with a smile.  
  
"So," Lance asks quietly, reaching for Shiro's hand, gently squeezing it and leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, feeling the twitching in Shiro's facial muscles as his smile broadens. "Shall we be idiots together?"  
  
"I ... I think I can live with that, so yes."  
  
"Cool." Lance squeezes his hand again, grinning in relief as Shiro squeezes back. "That's ... that's cool." Then he clears his throat and turns his eyes a bit to the side. "Well, I don't know if you've noticed, but I still have a hard-on, and maybe I should take a quick shower and cook something nice for the two of us, I know you're not really the best chef of us three, and then we can talk again, and maybe, if that's okay, but only if, don't feel obliged to anything, I can go to bed with you tonight and not sleep on the couch this time, that is, I mean, uhm .. "  
  
Actually, he doesn't really know what he means.  
  
And actually, he's very glad that Shiro just interrupts him with a kiss, pushes him against the back of the sofa and kisses him like he never knew Shiro would be able to: Desperate, greedy, almost as if he wanted to prove something to the both of them.  
  
Which doesn't bother Lance at all, because if Shiro keeps doing what he's doing right now, with his teeth digging into Lance's lower lip, his tongue licking over the bitten spot, the kisses getting deeper and faster until Lance can't help but gasp, then he won't need a shower, then he's gonna come into his pants like a schoolboy during his first time.  
  
... wait. Stupid comparison. He is a schoolboy. And that's his first time. With Shiro.  
  
With Shiro grumbling and gently biting his lips. "Can you stop spacing out on me for a second?"  
  
"Sorry, sorry, I'm just - you're just -"  
  
"What?" Shiro laughs, nuzzling his cheek with his nose. "What am I?"  
  
And Lance can't help but laugh too. "Wow, just wow."  
  
"Should I show you something even more wow?"  
  
Lance bites his lower lip, shuddering at the many things that could mean. He swallows hard and raises his eyebrows. "Is that the point where I'm about loose my anal virginity?"  
  
"What?" Shiro moves away from him a bit to look surprised and stunned. "Dude, no! Do you have any idea how much that sofa cost me? I'm not gonna let it get dirty, I'm not an i-" He hesitates and rolls his eyes. "Okay, maybe I am an idiot, but I'm not that much of an idiot."  
  
"I'm glad you corrected yourself." I'm proud of you. "  
  
"Hey, keep it up and I'll reconsider the sex thing."  
  
"What? No! Don't you dare! I can't stand another day full of blue balls and wet dreams. Think of my health, be a good Samaritan and help the needy in need! "  
  
... okay, maybe he exaggerated a bit. Shiro looks at him as if he - Lance - has lost his mind. Then he shakes his head and closes his eyes, laughing softly.   
"You're absolutely impossible. Do me a favor, man, shut up for five minutes and take off your pants."  
  
"That's two favors."  
  
"Lance!"  
  
"And are you sure you only need five minutes? I mean, you have to be very convinced of yoursel- okay, okay, I'll do it, don't throw the pillow at me!"  
  
They're idiots. Both of them. And that's fine. And as Lance hastily opens the button and zipper of his jeans and pulls them down a little, as he watches Shiro - surprisingly quiet, in a fluid movement that barely matches his muscular build - slip to the floor in front of him and push his thighs apart with one hand, Lance is very, very sure that everything will be way more than just okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No nsfw this time, but there'll be nsfw Shance and nsfw Shklance in the final chapter. Thanks to all of you for sticking around! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Also on [Tumblr](http://ariodat.tumblr.com/post/166673983791/boy-meets-boy-meets-other-boy-15).


End file.
